


Lost & Found

by maximofftrash



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Feels, darcy loves sarcastic lil shits, pietro is a sarcastic lil shit, pretty AU tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximofftrash/pseuds/maximofftrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'What are they saying? Are they talking about me?' Darcy is paranoid and immensely turned on. It’s quite a predicament. Accents are her weakness. Along with, y’know, god-like bone structure and biceps. Which Blondie definitely has."</p><p>OR </p><p>Darcy's stuff keeps inexplicably disappearing. Pietro Maximoff is an attractive, speedy lil shit and Darcy loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy keeps losing things. The first night it happens, she’s alone in the lab.

The pack of Sour Skittles she had been absentmindedly eating were missing. In a split second, she’d turned to grab a pen, and when her eyes returned to the desk, they were gone. She felt the skin of her arms prickle, the hairs raised on end slightly with static. She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose where they often pinched. She concluded that either her snack had fallen into a junk food black hole ( _is that how Jane stays so skinny?_ she wondered), or she was working too hard. She decided on the latter.

Of course this wasn’t the ideal Friday night plans she’d been expecting, but with yet another cancelled date (she’s never using Tinder again, _ever_ ) and an inordinate amount of data to process, she’d resigned herself to the fact that this was her life now.

And, _shit_ , it was boring. At least she could drink the ‘secret’ tequila and lime stash Tony left not-so-subtly hidden in a drawer with a crudely scrawled label stating: ‘Don’t Touch My Stuff, Banner’(complete with a small doodle of a sombrero-wearing Hulk).

There were perks to being Jane’s intern, of course. She had her own apartment on the 12th floor of the Avengers tower whilst she was conducting research, and she was getting to spend the majority of her downtime there. The others didn’t seem to mind her loitering presence in the lounge area; she had an open plan policy with her Netflix password and she was constantly baking, so feedback seemed generally positive. At one point, Clint had even called her his “favourite of the new kids”, between mouthfuls of a cherry bakewell slice.

“The new kids”, she soon realised were a little…odd. The first time they’d met, Darcy was sprawled out on the sofa, knee deep in a Game of Thrones marathon and shovelling raw cookie dough into her mouth without an ounce of guilt. She was hungover and wearing aviator sunglasses, despite the fact that it was 9pm and November. Thor was taking up the bulk of the adjacent couch, with Clint perching on the arm and grumbling.

“How am I supposed to reach the popcorn when it’s all the way over there?!” Clint gestures wildly at the Asgardian, who has a large plastic bowl wedged between his knees.

“My friend, simply reach over and take your share,” Thor smiles, in that jovial, puppy-like manner that seemed to frustrate the archer at the best of times. Clint flaps his arms again in the general vicinity of the god.

“I’m not gonna put my hand in your damn lap! Let me hold it.”

Darcy _shh_ ’d them both and swipes the bowl and its buttery contents in one swift motion. Both men glance from Thor’s lap to the bowl and then exchange exasperated glances.

“Shut up. You have to pay attention! This show is, like, so badass and great and everyone _dies_!” She edges forward in her seat and gleefully rubs her hands together.

Thor’s face drops. “I’m unsure as to why you would enjoy that, Lady Darcy.”

In her abstraction, Darcy had failed to notice the twins’ presence in the room. She was about to geek out and regale the two Avengers with a complete history of mega dorky Westerosi knowledge, but was cut short by Jarvis.

“Good afternoon, Miss Maximoff, Mr. Maximoff,” the AI intones.

“I’ll never get used to that.” The dark-haired female mutters, referring to the disembodied voice with a smirk. She’s all smudged eyeliner and graceful, slender limbs like a ballet dancer. _Damn_ , thinks Darcy, _what an accent_. Eastern European, husky, with a hint of snark. _Ticks all the boxes!_

And then she notices him. He’s just like when she saw him on TV news reports when Sokovia was falling to pieces. Tall, toned and lean. His borderline-ridiculous silver hair is curled, messy and falling into his eyes a little. Those eyes are glancing awkwardly around the room when they finally settle on Darcy. He gives her a small, tight-lipped smile and when he breaks her gaze, she doesn’t realize it but she continues to gawp open-mouthed at the handsomely dishevelled speedster.

“ _Sweet baby Jesus holy mother of fuck_ ” she breathes.

A chunk of cookie dough drops off her wooden spoon and lands rather comically in her cleavage.

Clint gets up off the couch (snatching the popcorn bowl from Darcy in one fell swoop without even looking) and shakes the hands of the twins. This is the most time they seem to have spent inside the gaudy, somewhat over the top Avengers tower, and both siblings appear to be a little flabbergasted.

“Hey, kid,” Clint grins at Wanda and pinches the lapel of her fringed red leather jacket. “Nice threads.”

“Thank you,” Wanda’s face softens a bit at his tone and an elusive smile graces her features for a moment. Darcy has heard that she trusts the archer the most out of all her new teammates, especially after the events at Sokovia. _I’m getting some serious father/daughter vibes here_ , she thinks, _Oh Clint, what a goddamn sap_.

“Pietro,” Clint greets him with super manly man’s side-hug/ cool bro handshake combo.

“Old man,” The blonde twin replies with a good natured wink. The archer sighs theatrically and throws his hands into the air. _He’s like 1000% done with today, huh?_ Darcy chuckles to herself.

Wanda’s head whips round to Darcy who appears to have only just realised how much of a hobo she looks and attempts to hide her food-stained Captain America pyjamas (which are from the kids’ section at Walmart and make Steve uncomfortable when he sees his own distorted face stretched absurdly over Darcy’s ample chest, making him look like Sloth from The Goonies…but a hot version, as Darcy had protested, much to Steve’s further insistence that she _must_ burn them).

“You guys know Thor, and this is Darcy. She’s always here and we don’t know why.” Clint gestures to Darcy’s form, now half-huddled under a blanket.

Wanda raises an expressive eyebrow at her brother.

“Šis viena būs jautri, ne?” she giggles darkly.

“Redzēsim, māsa.” He replies, throwing a smirk and a knowing look back at his twin.

 _What are they saying? Are they talking about me?_ Darcy is paranoid _and_ immensely turned on. It’s quite a predicament. Accents are her weakness. Along with, y’know, god-like bone structure and biceps. Which Blondie definitely has.

Thor’s laugh booms across the room, he gets up to clap a large hand on Pietro’s shoulder with enthusiastic aplomb. “To what do we owe the momentous pleasure of your company this evening?” he asks.

“We are staying. Indefinitely. Stark’s orders.” Wanda says, holding up a pair of keycards. On one, a red card key with a plastic keyring of Elphaba from Wicked. The other, blue with Road Runner dangling from the end and a speech bubble saying ‘Meep Meep!’. Darcy almost lets out a squeal. _Tony, you hilarious bastard._

The twins have no idea why Clint and Darcy are sniggering. They look to Thor hopefully for answers. He shrugs.

“So, like, which one of you is the evil twin?” Darcy blurts out. Wanda scowls at the question but Pietro immediately points to her. She punches him on the arm and he holds up his hands innocently.

“You see?” he says triumphantly folding his arms across his chest. “Pure evil.”

The room erupts into childish sniggers once again.

The twins eventually feel comfortable enough to sit down. Wanda slinks down onto the couch next to Darcy and both siblings stare at her expectantly. If they weren’t both so sinfully pretty they’d almost definitely make her nervous.

“Fine, fine. I can take a hint. I’ll move.” Darcy sighs, rolls her eyes and shifts over towards another seat to make room for Pietro. “ _Lannister vibes_ …” she hisses at Clint before she gets up. Her body brushes his a little accidentally-but-totally-on-purpose as they exchange places so Pietro can sit beside his sister. It’s like her brain starts streaming the world in slow motion when she ends up in close contact with him.

“Priekā, mīļotā” he husks lightly, and she feels the warmth of his breath in her ear for a slow, agonizing second before he flops down onto the couch and begins bickering loudly with his sister in what Darcy can only assume is Sokovian.

Darcy thinks she may have just imagined that. Against her better judgement, she’s flustered. _Hella_ flustered. _Hot damn_.

No-one notices her slink off, muttering about being tired and needing beauty sleep to stay looking this cute- and trying to hide the beet-red flush creeping up her neck.

                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                          -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

 

When Darcy reaches her door, she feels in her pocket for her keycard. _Uh oh_. This is the second time her personal belongings have evaporated before her eyes.

She spends the night in the lab once again.

When she wakes up, her head is haphazardly smushed into the keyboard of her Macbook, and drool is pooling inbetween the keys. The word document flashing in front of her sore eyes now reads ‘ _In conclusion asdfghhkjlklddlfll_ ’.

She closes the laptop with an audible groan and, to her complete annoyance, her eyes settle on her keycard resting on the desk in front of her- and three Skittles. Once the fog in her head clears and she realizes it, she begins to laugh weakly. The only explanation that comes to mind is _him_. _Of course_ , he’s messing with her!

“That sarcastic, speedy _lil shit_!”

 _Well_ , she thinks, and then her lips curve devilishly. _Watch out, Sonic, this means war_.


	2. Thin Ice

“Are you _ever_ going to stop staring at him?”

Natasha’s voice brings Darcy out of a trance.

“Who?” Darcy feigns innocence, clasping a hand to her chest in mock horror. “Nat, I’m _offended_.”

“And I’m disgusted. You’ve been pining for an hour now.” Natasha says, with a nod towards the window where Darcy had positioned herself firmly opposite so she could get a decent view of the training grounds.

 _I’m not pining after him! He’s a jerk who steals my stuff._ She thinks irritably.

Of course she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t deliberately found a seat so that she could watch Pietro training in his running gear. She’d be kidding herself if she said she didn’t enjoy the way he could quite literally run circles around the rest of his teammates, and finished the assault course before any of them could even start, finishing with a self-satisfied smirk. Or the way he could do a ridiculous amount of push-ups in seconds without even breaking a sweat. Not that she didn’t want to see him all sweaty and breathless and panting and- _oh shit._

_So maybe I am pining a little..._

But she’d be damned if anyone else was going to know about it.

Natasha swiped another muffin from Darcy’s baking tray and bit into it, her eyes still scrutinizing.

“Stay away,” she says ominously, “Kid’s got trouble written all over him.”

Darcy grins. “Doesn’t he just.”

Natasha gives Darcy a final withering look that’s pretty much the equivalent of “ _hoe, don’t do it”_ and heads to the doorway, swiping a couple more chocolate muffins for the road. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” she calls back.

                                                                                                      -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

“I’m still gonna get him back for stealing my shit. He made me think I was going crazy! I mean, can you believe that? I don’t care how good-looking you are or how sexy your accent is or how amazingly sexual you probably are in bed or- wait, where was I going with this? Oh yeah, if you mess with someone you’ve never met before; you’re an asshole. That’s it, end of story. Done. Dunzo. Finito. You know what I mean?”

Steve doesn’t. But he thinks it’s probably polite not to ask.

“Really, Darcy. He seems like a good guy,” Steve says, he’s sat at the kitchen table carefully measuring out caster sugar. He likes to help Darcy when she’s baking big batches, especially after a rough training session. “He’s really taking to the training schedule. And look what he did for Clint and that kid! Taking nine bullets to the chest for a friend doesn’t seem like something a bad guy would do.”

“Oh, don’t give me that poor little orphaned hero crap.” Darcy whines. “He still deserves a good pranking.”

“All I’m saying is, he’s nice. Be careful.” Steve says. He stands up and Darcy snorts. He’s wearing her pink apron. It has a _friggin’ bow on it_.

“Nice outfit, Cap.”

Steves smiles and starts stirring flour and eggs in a mixing bowl. “I certainly think so.”

 

                                                                                                       -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Darcy has been trying to concentrate all day. So far, she’s just about managed to get twenty minutes of work done. But she’s starting to go stir crazy in that laboratory without Jane. When they had a big project with tight deadlines (which was pretty much all the damn time), they’d get pizza and Krispy Kremes and Darcy would listen to Jane get excited about science stuff and something sweet that Thor did earlier that day, and Jane would pretend to listen while Darcy dissected the political allegories of Beyonce songs re-enacted her favourite episodes of The Muppet Show (because her Kermit voice was just _uncanny_ ).

It was a system that was flawed, but it was beautiful and it worked.

With Jane away doing rigorous international press tours and interviews on her recent Nobel Prize nomination, Darcy was one wingwoman down. She decides to take a trip downtown for some fresh air and some of her favourite Thai takeout food. Of course she forgot that it was November and the intermittent snow was colder than Queen Elsa’s left boob.

Trudging back through the icy sleet, she soon begins to regret not ordering for delivery. It doesn’t help that her favourite black duffle coat has gone missing, because it’s lined with fake fur and it’s the warmest item of clothing she owns.

 _Stupid selfish Jane,_ Darcy thinks, huffing as she pulls her woollen panda-eared hat down further over her ears. It’s utterly freezing and the snow has begun to rapidly blizzard around her. _Going off to enjoy her lucrative career and leaving me here with all this work and these superpowered whackjobs!_

The cold is permeating through her layered sweater and t-shirt, down to her bones, and she’s shivering uncontrollably. _It’s so damn cold_. Her clothes are saturated and sticking to her now. The wind is pummelling her and scores her face with stinging frost and rain.

_Ah, fuck this._

She breaks out into a run to get home as quickly as possible. This is the most she’s run since the 1998 annual St.Catherine’s Elementary School Sports Day, and she can’t believe how shitty her lung capacity has gotten since she took up smoking while she’s drunk.

 _What would Pietro think if he could see me now?_ she wonders to herself disparagingly.

 _Oh man, I really wish I had my coat...wait a minute!_ She’s still running when she reaches the intersection, limbs flailing, legs skidding on the icy concrete of the sidewalk. She furiously makes a dash across the road, the heavy snowstorm sticking her eyelashes together- and then it hits her. _The quick little bastard stole my coat!_

And then something else hits her.

She’s falling in an instant, her feet slip and give out on the black ice, she doesn’t feel the impact but she can hear a sickening _crack_ and a screeching of tyres. Fierce light hits her eyes and she clamps them shut because it feels like she’s being blinded by luminous blue. She can smell the burning rubber and feel something clamping down on her sides, holding her in place, making her breath catch in her chest. It’s all over in an instant and then abruptly she’s gasping for air like a fish out of water and thrashing against whatever’s holding onto her.

_I’m dying I’m dead oh my God I’m so dead_

She regains lucidity when she hears his voice.

“ _You need to be more careful, mīļotā_.”

Her eyes snap open. Pietro’s features flicker into view and she’s suddenly limp. His body is warm and pressed against hers.  With the snowflakes falling around him, settling in his hair, lips slightly parted, there are even snowflakes catching on his goddamn stupid lovely eyelashes... _Oh god_.

She’s jerks away from him and wriggles free of his grasp, but she doesn’t realise how unsteady she is on her feet, and her knees buckle. Her right arm is throbbing.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!” A very large, very red faced man with a jetty brow and a receding hairline has left his car in the middle of the heaving traffic. He’s trying to cut through the swirling onslaught of snow. He strides up to Darcy and kneels down next to her, mops at the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. “You nearly got yourself killed runnin’ out into the road like that, in this weather!”

Pietro has already sped off, leaving slivers of blue light and a very shaken Darcy in his wake.

The stranger gawps open-mouthed at the spot where the speedster had been standing.

“Jesus. Is that normal?”

 

                                                                                                           -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

She decides she’s going to avoid him for a while. At least until this whole thing dies down. Which it almost certainly won’t, because she’s not just embarrassed, she’s fucking _mortified_.

She decides to tell everyone at Avengers HQ before the word gets out. She waits until everyone except the twins (well, and Bruce and Tony, who are embroiled in science-bro related shenanigans outside of the country) are present in the lounge area, and she finally comes clean as to why she’s been acting so weird (not that they’d asked, except Clint who had knocked on her door a few times to enquire about when she was going to start baking again). Of course, the plaster cast on her broken arm would’ve been a dead giveaway eventually.

“So...yeah, that happened. It’s not a big deal. I slipped on an icy road and yes, I _know_ it was stupid and yes, I _know_ he saved me and it was a fucking horrible, lame Twilight movie moment and _yes_ if you make jokes I will break your face- that means _you_ Clint!”

The archer blinks. “What did I do?!”

When she’s done rambling, she’s out of breath.

“Therefore, in conclusion, I have elected that none of you will ever see me again. Don’t try to stop me. I’m leaving to find a nice cave in Antarctica and become a reclusive spinster with a hundred fluffy seal babies.”

“You might want to consider somewhere with a little less ice.”

She whirls round to discover Pietro leaning on the wall behind her, a lazy half-smile colours his features.

 _Shit_.

“You know what? I wouldn’t have been running on the ice if you wouldn’t have taken my coat!” The words blurt out of her mouth before her mind has a chance to stop them.

“ _Oh no she didn’t_!” Clint shouts animatedly, making a little z-snap finger formation in the air. Natasha slaps his hand.

Pietro’s brows crease a little in confusion. “You mean... _that_ coat?” He turns and points at Wanda, who is bundled up in Darcy’s two-sizes-too-big black duffle coat.

“Um...” Wanda starts, glancing sideways at Darcy and back at her brother. “I was cold?”

The sofa begins to shake a little with Clint and Natasha’s muffled laughter. Steve and Thor look nonplussed.

Darcy buries her face in her hands. Well, she tries to, but the cast gets in the way and she lets out a little strangled yelp. “Why? Why is this my life?” she moans to the ceiling.

“Aw, come on Darce, it’s pretty funny.” Clint gets up with a grin and pulls her into a gentle hug. “Now, how about some of Grandma Lewis’ famous cookies?”

“How am I supposed to _bake_ with my friggin’ arm like this?!” she flaps her plastered arm like an injured baby bird.

“I could help,” Pietro says, and he’s suddenly beside her, his accent sending a little involuntary shudder up her spine. “If you don’t hate me now, that is.” That lazy half-smirk appears again, and Darcy feels a stirring in her stomach (she definitely can’t chalk it down to the extra spicy burrito she had for lunch, as much as she’d like to).

“Sure, you can help me bake,” she says quietly. She returns his smirk and bites her bottom lip, slowly, so that his eyes focus on it. “Let’s consider it payback.”

Steve walks past, chuckles and throws something pink and frilly at Pietro, who reluctantly (she hopes) tears his gaze away from Darcy and catches it without hesitation.

“That means you gotta wear the apron, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, I know where I'm going with this...sort of.
> 
> There'll be more Darcy/Pietro interaction in the next chapter I promise! I write these super late at night so apologies for my terrible lack of plot, writing skills & genre technique!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I just had this idea in my head all day and oh my god I just love this ship??? Might do another chapter maybe (???) because they're both cute idiot babies and I want them to kiss. 
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> I used Latvian but shhh lets pretend it's Sokovian, if you're Latvian then I'm so sorry I suck)
> 
> "Šis viena būs jautri, ne?" = "This one will be fun, no?"  
> "Redzēsim, māsa"= "We'll see, sis"  
> “Priekā, mīļotā”= roughly means "thanks/cheers, sweetheart/babe", I wanted Pietro to be a cheeky lil shit so i thought this would convey that side of him nicely.
> 
>  
> 
> Add me on Twitter: @lydiawagster  
> Add me on Tumblr: maxximofftrash


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